


Ice Storm

by Daryl_Alenko



Category: NCIS
Genre: LiveJournal Prompt, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 11:04:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4958032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daryl_Alenko/pseuds/Daryl_Alenko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a strange snow and ice storm seals the NCIS team in, secrets come tumbling out and revelations are finally made over a childish game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ice Storm

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the characters!
> 
> This is from a prompt challenge I did a few years ago, where I had to take three random things from a list, and create a story around them.
> 
> My prompt was:

1.

"Oh .. my .. God, Probie ... this .. this is Christmas and birthday all wrapped up into one!" Tony DiNozzo's cliched humor is injected into the chuckle that rings through out the mostly empty bullpen that his team was assigned to at NCIS. The Italian was laughing so hard pin pricks of red had begun to form on his cheeks, little speckles of color blurring his vision as he struggles to breathe through his laughter.

Timothy McGee, aka Probie, aka McGeek, had just stepped off the elevator into the bullpen, with a black backpack and basic coat slung over one shoulder. While there was nothing unusual about that, or indeed, laughable, the garish clothing he's wearing is almost enough to make even the great insulter and well documented prankster of NCIS' head explode! Probie has just entered a serious place of business that deals with death, murder, blood, and gore on a daily basis, wearing green and black lederhosen! He is sort of pale, with a slight bit of girth that is not quite chubby, just .. cuddly. That's the term Tony would use, if he ever got drunk, stupid, and let his mouth run away with him while describing the people he works with on a daily basis. McGeek wasn't -too- bad, he just had this innocent superiority geek nature about him that made him really sensitive and easy to tease. There may have been a few feelings of resentment from Tony to begin with, but now? Well, everyone on the team know that Tony's jokes, pranks, and teasing are a sign of affection.

Even now, as McGee glances down at the thin black shorts with abstract floral patterns the color of dark shamrock across the crotch, thighs and sides of the lederhosen, his features read annoyance, but his eyes sparkle with a hint of quiet amusement. The base material was black, with black straps that looked like braces, flowing up his torso, resting atop a simple white button up shirt with the same abstract green print on the front in a patch from one brace to the next. His cropped dirty brown hair, which is standard military short, is covered by a matching green cap with a thin, 'cabbie cap' style brim that is resting at a haphazard angle over his round head.

"Oh, McGeek .. such a wonderful present ..." To emphasize the moment, Tony whips out his cellphone, the sudden flash and camera shutter sound causing McGee's eyes to widen in surprise. To McGee's credit, he calculates the likelihood of wrestling the phone from the older man and deleting the image, but realizes that it would be futile. Tony would simple take another, -several- more, and rather than keep it to himself since it was just a personal joke, he'd likely e-mail it to every e-mail issued through NCIS, and he doesn't need that kind of headache.

"Ha ha, Tony. I was at a Wiesn fair with a few friends when I got the call. I didn't have a chance to change."

"A .. what, McGee?" Ziva's voice is laced with that ever present, but mostly hidden note of annoyance that she harbored when a reference she didn't understand was made.

"Oktoberfest, David. It's a celebration of funny clothes and beer." Tony pipes up, earning a scathing look from both of his fellow agents.

"That's not the point, DiNozzo." Gibbs' even, soft voice does not fail to make Tony jump in surprise. In the very next second, he feels the all too familiar flat palm across the back of his head; a patented Gibbs' slap. Honestly, Abby wants to patent it and -everything-!

"Right, Boss." The response is automatic, one of a few that always comes after a Gibbs' slap. The older, ex-marine then crosses to where the younger agent is standing and the flat of his palm connects with the back of McGee's head as well.

"McGee. Change. Now." Probie gives a quick shake of his head and stealthily bobs through the others to get to his desk. Though Tony would never admit it, he feels a pang of jealousy when Gibbs administers the familiar form of friendly 'punishment' to the younger agent also. He can still remember the first time he had been slapped up the back side of his head! He had just arrived at NCIS and he and Gibbs were walking down a hallway, discussing the case that had brought them to each others attention. Gibbs slapped Tony for thinking to waste his potential, and Tony had immediately demanded to know if the older man had just physically assaulted him. He had also made the statement that Gibbs shouldn't do that too often. It didn't work out that way, and again, secretly, he finds himself a little happy that Gibbs had completely disregarded what he said, and that the Gibbs' slaps had continued. There was something wonderfully physical about them. It would be hard for him to explain if he really had to. Every member of this strange little professional family had secrets, quirks, and strangeness that they keep to themselves.

And somehow, unlike every other dysfunctional family in America, it works out nicely.

McGee plops heavily into his chair, yanking the bottom drawer of his desk open and peering carefully into it, wary of any possible booby trap DiNozzo may have rigged. While it was true that none of them had been expecting a call, McGee knew that Tony had a habit of setting a joke up well in advance. In that regard, Tony was a bit lucky that no one else was so disrespectful as to go through drawers, because no one outside of the team would be so understanding. Once McGee has managed to fish out a change of clothing, he disappears to the bathroom, leaving the other members of the team standing around, waiting for the details of their assignment. Usually, this is the point where Gibbs would state that there's a dead marine, gear up. Yet, beyond those few words, he remains strangely silent. He has claimed the seat at his desk, and allowed his agents to continue with their good natured kidding of each other.

"Aww. Now you look like a grownup Probie, McGoo." Tony's playful tones ring through out the bullpen, and Gibbs finds himself fighting back a smile. Kid as much as Tony might, Gibbs knew the younger man would take a bullet for any of his team mates; had done just that on many an occasion. They are all fiercely protective of one another, if they show it in the day to day or not. One had to be in such a highly stressful job. That little bit of knowledge is probably the only reason Gibbs is not taking their reason for being here as an out and out assault against the team.

"Sit. Now." Gibbs' well known, acerbic bark is enough to send all three Agents leaping for their seats, positioning themselves perfectly behind their desks; 'eagerly' awaiting the next command. Though he would never admit it, Gibbs experiences a sense of supreme satisfaction and pride at the dedication, intelligence, and loyalty of his Agents. They have become a family, as resistant as he has always been to such a thing. It happened without his consent, and in a way, he's happy for that fact. It had been strange to wake up one morning and realize that he was excited to go into work, knowing he would see each of them there.

Abby, his 'favorite.' His daughter, in so many ways. At first, he had worried that such a thought would somehow be betraying Kelly's memory, but no. He loves Kelly still. He has room for two daughters in his heart. He loves Abby, not only for her ability as a forensics specialist, but for her personality; her quirky sense of life, her constant need for hugs and Caf-Pow. He enjoys the fact that the two of them are able to communicate using sign language. And while he sort of misses the fact that they were the only ones capable of doing so in the beginning, he is impressed by the fact Tony has begun to learn.

Ducky. His best friend, in some strange, familial way. Ducky could almost be an older brother, the kind that constantly tries to pass down wisdom and advice; the kind that reprimands with clucks and tsks but never harsh words. Because the clucks and tsks are so much worse, display a sense of disappointment far better than screaming or shouting ever could. And, much like with an older brother, Gibbs knows he doesn't listen anywhere as often as he should. Though, Gibbs finds it very amusing that Ducky is the only one that can get away with calling Tony Anthony.

McGee. A technical wizard with little to no street knowledge. McGee is emotional, easily flustered by those on the team, but he has a sense of loyalty so deep that he would go against all of NCIS to prove that his little sister wasn't a murderer. As much as it had hurt and angered him that McGee hadn't come to them for help, he was proud of the boy for sticking to his conviction and figuring it out. McGee was like the son he'd never had; infuriating, childish, and yet one hell of a good Agent. If he would learn to stop second guessing his own instinct, he'll go far at NCIS. While he would never do so himself, he finds it witty and amusing, the way that Tony manages to create so many funny alternatives to McGee's name. It lightens the day to day.

Ziva. The Mossad warrior. He can't help but think of her as a warrior, rather than a person. She has endured much in her strange life, and it has twisted and molded her into something that is often a little less than human. That is not to say he looks down on her for this fact or anything of that nature. Quite the contrary. He finds himself wanting to bring her into the fold, wanting to help her understand that she doesn't have to be a Mossad machine. She can feel, experience, live. Life is not waiting for your next command to kill. He had lived life that way once, and though he doesn't particularly regret it, he does regret the cold callousness it has lead him to. Maybe her friendship with Tony will help her understand the levity life can offer as well.

And then there's Tony. Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. As much as it irks him that the younger man tacks on the 'special,' Gibbs would be lying to himself if he tried to say Tony didn't deserve it. Of all the team, Tony has been the field agent with him the longest, and has actually taken the most injury in the line of duty. He refuses to give up, refuses to let a case get the better of him, and he sits back and endures all of Gibbs' foul moods without complaint. If he had to hazard a guess, he would say he is the closest to Tony, that his Senior Field Agent understands him the most of everyone on the entire team; Abby and Ducky included, and they've known him longer. Gibbs would also hazard to say he understands Tony the most as far as the rest of the team goes. He understands that the playboy frat persona is nothing more than one of the many mechanisms Tony uses to hide who he truly is; just like the jokes, pranks, and endless supply of movie references. They all aid in helping Tony deal with the stress of the life he lives. Again, though he would never admit it, Gibbs likes the masks as much as the man beneath it all. Tony is the glue that holds their strange little family team together. Maybe he should admit that from time to time .. help Tony realize that he -does- have Gibbs' approval.

The sudden, complete silence of the bullpen snaps him out of his thoughts, and he realizes that the others are awaiting their orders, waiting to find out why they've been called in to work on this chilly winter evening. Gibbs clears his throat and glances up from his computer, though he hadn't actually been using the thing.

"No dead marine this time. The Director called us in, though he won't be making an appearance. It seems our team is up for review. We're going to gather all the information on our last five cases and have them ready. This will include a psych evaluation also." Some part of him had been waiting for it. All three immediately begin to fight to speak over the other, interjecting their feelings of just how rank and messed up this all is. Well, actually, only two. For some reason, Tony has simply turned to his computer and begun working. Surely that should have been a sign that things weren't going to go the way they should have?

"Quiet! Get it done." Gibbs' voice doesn't even have to rise loud enough to compete with the den of noise. The other two simply snap their mouths shut and turn to begin working as well. Blessed silence follows for about twenty minutes before the sound of an explosion in the distance rocks the building. The bullpen is suddenly plunged into darkness, and none of the team move, or even utter a word, for a few moments.

"Transponder blew." Tony's calm voice is the first to break the silence, and Gibbs seriously wishes he was close enough to smack the back of Tony's head for that oh so obvious observation. Instead, he calmly reaches to his side and grabs his backpack. He's a little surprised to hear a second ruffling sound as someone else grabs their pack. Two bright beams of light illuminate the bullpen, both Gibbs and Tony holding flashlights. Gibb's quirks that ever emotive brow when he realizes that Tony is prepared. The SFA stands from his desk and crosses to Ziva and then McGee's desk, depositing flashlights for them as well.

"Well, that sort of puts the kibosh on record gathering for the moment. If secondary power didn't kick on, then we won't be able to get out." Tony's dry observation strikes Gibbs as .. well, very un-Tony like, but he doesn't comment. Instead, he manages himself the barest sigh of annoyance before he leans back in his seat for a moment, the beam of his torch resting on the opposite wall, close to the elevator.

"DiNozzo, take the stairs. Check the front doors, find out if they have any power. No use being here if we don't have to. The Director can't exactly blame us for a power outage." Without a word, Tony tucks his backpack across one shoulder and heads for the stairs.

Another twenty minutes and Tony comes shuffling up the stairs once more, trying no to gasp for much needed breath. The Plague had left his lungs bordering on swiss cheese, a fact that Gibbs hadn't taken into consideration. It really does take all of his willpower to remain sitting, rather than rushing to his SFA and making sure that he'll be okay. Tony traipses back to his desk and fairly sinks into his seat. No one could see it, because of the general lack of light, but his hand is twined so heavily in his pack strap that his knuckles are a stark white with exertion.

"Sorry, Boss. They aren't opening. There's a lot of ice and snow out there. I think we might be trapped for the night." Strangely, this new development doesn't elicit the sort of whinging and whining he had come to expect. Then it hits him; the other two are as worried over Tony's soft wheezing and labored breathing as he is. That shouldn't surprise him, really, after all the 'family' thoughts he had just indulged in a few minutes earlier. None of them were used to hearing Tony sound so weak. No, not weak. Gibbs would -never- associate Tony with weakness. Reduced, maybe, because of the lungs. But that's it.

"Well, looks like we're stuck then. The Director will send someone." The oldest member of the team leans back in his seat for a moment, setting the flashlight down on the desk top so that the beam is angled at the ceiling, offering a little general illumination. Meanwhile, he finds himself trying to figure out what their next move should be.

"Autopsy." The single word breaks the silence and even Gibbs starts slightly, turning his gaze toward Tony in question. The younger man doesn't seem perturbed in the least. "Autopsy would be the best bet. It's secondary power isn't connected to the main building, since there are corpses. It will be a little chilly, but there's plenty of blankets and what not. The Lounge is still accessible, we can find food and drink there. We can hunker down in Autopsy and wait for Vance to get his head out of his ass and come get us."

Gibbs feels that familiar sense of pride well through him, warming him from the inside out. He grabs the flashlight off the desk top and stands, glancing at the other two, who look a little unsure. He feels a stab of anger at their reticence to trust Tony, and he fights down his response. Instead, he barks out a move. The other two jump to their feet, grabbing their packs out of instinct.

"McGee. Go to autopsy, see if Ducky's office is open and has power. It'll be a little warmer. Ziver. Go to the infirmary, see if there are an blankets and pillows. Gather up as many as you can. Tony, with me." The other two cool his anger by a fraction when they leap to their tasks.

"On your six, Boss." Tony's faithful, reliable reply doesn't disappoint, the SFA scrambling to Gibbs' side. Gibbs turns and begins to head for the Lounge, Tony at his heel.

"Fast thinking, DiNozzo." The younger man, still not really used to the praise, fairly beams behind Gibbs. Even if the older man can't see it, he can feel it. Tony's reactions are always so bright and full of life, that it's hard to miss them most times.

 

2.

Another half an hour, and the four of them find themselves situated in Autopsy. Ducky's office, unfortunately, was locked. For the most part, the level of discomfort was minimum. McGee and Ziva each have a blanket pooled around their waists where they sit on the floor in a corner, so that they can gather them up over their shoulders if they get too cold. They are sitting side by side, their backs to the rest of autopsy. Not surprising. Gibbs and Tony are sitting with their backs against the freezers, so that they both can see the whole of the room. Again, Gibbs is proud that his SFA would think of such a thing. Maybe he had had a bit of a good influence on him after all. Where Gibbs doesn't have a blanket, his folded on top of a pillow beside him, Tony's blanket is currently wrapped tightly around his shoulders, and it's obvious that he is in desperate need of the warmth despite how much he silently resents needing it.

"Ziva, pass me my back pack." Tony grinds the words out, and Ziva abruptly stops her conversation with McGee to grab it, sliding it across the ground toward Tony. However, everyone is surprised when Gibbs intercepts the pack and begins to rummaging through a side pocket, pulling out Tony's inhaler and passing it over silently. The shock between Ziva and McGee is tangible, but both men ignore it as Tony uses the inhaler.

"Boss .. front section, red pouch. Paper and pens." Again, Gibbs doesn't hesitate. He opens the section and reaches in, pulling out the spiral notebook of paper and the collection of black pens. As he's about to close it back up, his attention is caught by something else. The sudden, wheezing laughter from Tony causes his gaze to snap up to the younger man, and he can easily read the mirth dancing in his friend's eyes. "Go ahead, Boss."

Gibbs pulls out a to-go cup of coffee. He looks it over for a moment, and is a little surprised when Tony grabs it from him. The Agent fiddles with it for a moment, pulling something off the bottom. Gibbs looks skeptical when Tony then removes the top and hands it to him.

"Don't touch the bottom." Tony adds cryptically as Gibbs takes the cup. The older man is surprised when steam slowly begins to curl from the top and he takes a sip. The look of absolute pleasure is so out of place that McGee and Ziva both just gape in surprise as Gibbs begins to take several long, careful sips of the black brew.

"Thanks, Tony." The murmur is soft, and though it gives no emotion away, the younger man has only to hear his first name to know it's there. Tony grabs the pad of paper and tears off several sheets. He then begins to rip them into sheets and hands them out, along with the pens, the others looking on in surprise.

"Alright, it's like this. And even you're going to play, Boss. Everyone, take the pieces of paper and write questions on them. Make sure you write who they're to, who has to answer them. It's going to be anonymous, so don't worry about repercussions. And everyone has to answer truthfully. We know each other well enough to know when someone's lying." Tony glares at each of them, and for the first time, it looks exactly like the Gibbs' stare, and everyone finds themselves snatching up their pieces of paper and pens to begin writing; even Gibbs.

For the longest time, the only sounds are Tony's slowly evening breath and the scratch of pen across paper as everyone bares their souls on paper in the form of anonymous questions. Gibbs attention is taken when he realizes that Tony is suddenly standing. Gibbs' body tenses as he forces himself to keep from jumping up and trying to help the other man. Tony wobbles over to the supply room and pulls out a metal pan that would usually hold organs of some sort. He walks back and plops into his spot and tries to gather the blanket around his shoulders. If anyone notices Gibbs reaching out to carefully pull the blanket up over one of Tony's shoulders, they don't say anything.

"Okay. I'm going to pass this around. Everyone drop their pieces of paper in and then hand it back to me." Tony's announcement is met with nervous nods as he begins to pass the pan around, everyone tossing their pieces of paper in. Three sets of stomachs are surprisingly flip flopping as the pieces are tossed in. Unexpectedly, Gibbs' is one of those flopping stomachs at the moment. Is he taking a risk? Playing with fire? Would he be breaking so many of his own rules by the end of the day!?

"Okay. I'm going to mix these up as best I can, and then we'll get started. Everyone ready?" Half hearted okays and a few one worded agreements are heard as Tony begins to shuffle his fingers through the paper, mixing them as best he can. Before he can pull the first, however, he is seized with a cough, and the other three are frowning slightly. The cold of the ice storm is seeping through the building, but they all try to put it out of their minds. Vance would have rescue there soon enough ... right?

"Okay. First question is to .. Ziva. Wow, personal, right off the bat. Ziva, have you ever fantasized about anyone on the team, and if so, who?" As gazes snap toward the only female field agent, she does not seem all that distressed by the question. But then, she has never really seemed distressed by such things. She simply smiles that slight smile of her's, her head bobbing slowly in the affirmative. She grabs the edge of her blanket and tucks it around her waist.

"Yes. Gibbs, McGee, and Abby. I have dreamed about Tony, Palmer, Director Vance, and Ducky before. But nothing sexual as with a fantasy." Every jaw in the room drops at this announcement. Well, Gibbs' doesn't drop, but the widening of his eyes is as powerful as a jaw drop.

"Wow. One day, you and I need to sit down and talk about this, David. I bet McGee is kinky as hell in your fantasies. Ohh, and does Abby's involve whips and collars?" Tony's words, as usual, have the intended affect. McGee blushes deeply and begins to protest loudly, but there is a bit of a smile on his young features. Tony has always been able to defuse a situation. The SFA sets the piece of paper to the side, not surprised when he gets a Gibbs' slap gently across the back of his head for his comment about Abby. After all, everyone knows Gibbs views the girl like a daughter, and the last thing he needs is to hear about whips and collars where his two 'daughters' are concerned. Tony tosses him a sheepish smile before rummaging through the pieces of paper again. His eyes widen, not a little, not subtly, but full on, over the top widen. He clears his throat and carefully sets the piece of paper to the side of himself.

"The question is to me .. do I know what happened to Gibbs' dog tags." Okay, of all the questions that anyone had expected to hear, that was not one of them! Ziva's eyes widen, McGee doesn't looked that surprised, which leads both Gibbs and Tony to assume that he is the one that asked the question. And Gibbs? He looks .. perplexed, simply because he hadn't realized anything had -happened- to his dog tags. Tony doesn't glance around. "Yes." Comes the simple answer. He can feel the press of gazes, and he knows that everyone is waiting for him to explain. That usual DiNozzo smile, which is brilliant and triumphant, lights his features. "However, the question wasn't posed as to what happened to them. So, next question." McGee's features fall slightly in disappointment, but he does his best to hide it. Besides, he already knows what happened to the dog tags, but he had hoped to bring it out in the open. In his mind, it seemed long over due that Tony and Gibbs discussed what was happening between them, and McGee had hoped to force that conversation since there was nothing else to do at the moment. Also, because there was nowhere for Gibbs or Tony to run, so there was no way to really avoid the situation.

"Ziva .. what's the silliest, most useless talent you have, that can, in no way, be used in your Mossad or NCIS careers?" Tony snickers once he's done asking, and it's pretty obvious that that question was probably from Tony himself. Given Ziva's personality, closed off ways, no one really expected her to answer. No, they expected her to hit Tony and move on.

"I can .. roll my tongue." Three identical, questioning looks fall on her, and she rolls her eyes. It's a well known fact that she had a way of describing and naming things wrong. She opens her mouth and manipulates her tongue into three rolls which is met with a chorus of soft laughs. Gibbs turns expectantly toward DiNozzo, expecting his SFA to make some kind of inappropriate remark of a playfully sexual nature. Instead, he's already setting the strip of paper to the side, and fishing out another.

"Ohh, now here's one I know that won't get an answer." Tony gives a half smirk as he swivels his gaze toward Gibbs. It wasn't hard to see which question was coming, and though they had all agreed to tell the truth, he knows that he won't answer. Or at least, he wasn't planning on it. But suddenly, Tony coughs and it sounds horrible, his hand fisted in front of his mouth as the cough rattles him so deeply. And then, the answer is just tumbling out.

"Cross section. So that it can be split, moved out of the basement, then reassembled. But that doesn't leave this room." This revelation is met with silence for about a minute and a half, before Ziva and McGee, both grumbling to themselves, reach into their pockets. Two twenties make their way into Tony's hand, who smirks and shoves the money into his pocket. "A bet. Really? Isn't that cheating, DiNozzo?"

"What do you mean, Boss?" Tony asks as he sets the piece of paper to the side and starts rummaging again. Gibbs starts to answer, but suddenly finds that he doesn't really want to tell the others that Tony has been in his basement so many times. It was between them, and there was no reason for the other two to know the fact. So, he just shakes his head and leans against the cold case once more. Well, while the other three aren't paying attention, he reaches out to lift the corner of Tony's blanket over his shoulder again.

"Ahh, finally, one for McGeek. Hmm .. have you seen Abby's newest tattoo?" The words are spoken with the utmost innocence, and again, leaves everyone assuming that Tony has to be the one who wrote it, since he has his usual smug I-know-more-than-you attitude going at the moment. McGee quirks a brow, and rather than give a verbal answer, just shakes his head. Tony's Cheshire grin grows and he has that typical DiNozzo gleam of amusement in his eyes. "You totally need to see it, Probalicious. It's on the small of her back, right above her butt, and, well, you'll like it. It's .. personal." This time, Tony's caught off guard by the Gibbs' slap to the back of his head, his gaze jerking around to where Gibbs is fairly glowering at him angrily.

"And how the hell would you know where it is, or -what- it is, DiNozzo?" The was more fire and ire in those few words than any of the team were used to in such a casual moment. Tony looks perplexed for a moment .. then he looks hurt and angry, though he manages to stuff both of those emotions down.

"Geez, it's not like that, Boss! I went with her to get it, and we went to lunch afterward." Gibbs manages not to flinch at the cool nature of his SFA's words. He just gives a curt nod and turns to look at the pile of bedding next to him. He grabs the pillow from the top and shoves it behind his back before he reaches for the bowl to continue asking the questions. He grabs a strip of paper out and squints at it, trying not to get frustrated. He starts to pat at his pockets angrily, looking for his specs. In the next moment, his glasses case is slid into his hand by Tony, and he doesn't think twice about that fact. He just slips them on. Both Tony and Gibbs miss the look of surprised from the other two Agents, who find themselves wondering why Tony has to-go coffee for Gibbs, Gibbs knows where Tony's inhaler is in his backpack, and Tony has Gibbs' specs on hand.

"Okay. Ziver. Have you .. ugh .. have you hooked up with anyone on the team?" Gibbs rolls his eyes and darts a glare at Tony, who just shakes his head. He hadn't written that one. Ziva glances around for a moment, and drops her head, not meeting Gibbs' gaze, since she knows that it's rule 12.

"Yes." Comes her simple response, and both Gibbs and Tony look shocked; McGee does not. Tony shudders at the thought of those two together, though it would make sense why she had fantasized about Probie if she had been with him. Gibbs sets the piece of paper to the side, shaking his head vaguely to try and clear the thoughts from his mind. He's angry because Ziva is like a daughter .. right? Not because it could mean Tony was breaking rule 12 with Ziva .. right?? He groans inwardly, wanting to pick the bowl up and toss it across the room in his anger and frustration.

"Next." He barks out the word in an irascible tone. He snatches another piece of paper from the bowl and nearly shreds it in his anger once he's read it. "To me .." He begins, but can't make himself read the piece of paper. So, Tony darts across the faint distance, upending the bowl, to grab the piece of paper from his Boss, eyes slightly wide. There could only be one reason he wouldn't answer that question ..

"Have you wished to get involved with anyone on your current team?" Tony reads the question softly, no real emotion, not even a sense of curiosity. DiNozzo really isn't sure that he wants to hear the answer. He tosses the piece of paper the moment he's said it out loud, reaching over to turn the bowl right side up and replace the paper.

"Yes." Comes the simple, honest answer, and as always, Gibbs acts as if he hasn't just given some kind of wild, over the top, holy hell kind of information away with a single word. Gibbs reaches for another piece of paper, a strained half smile appearing when he recognized his own writing.

"Tony .. other than the ability to ramble a mile a minute without stopping, and the ability to quote every movie known to mankind, is there a talent you have that you'd never show off otherwise?" Gibbs turns his penetrating gaze on the younger man, expecting an answer. For one moment, he looks completely horrified, unsure of what he should do or say. Finally, he begins to pull the blanket down, around his waist as he struggles to stand up.

"Tony .." Gibbs cautions immediately, not wanting his friend to do anything silly and end up hurting himself further. Tony waves a hand toward him, and steps away from the group.

"When I was in college, a frat brother's sister was trying to attend Julliard for dance. I was interested in her, so I took an interest in her interests." He was rambling now, but that's nothing new. He exhales carefully, not really meeting any of their gazes. He carefully angles himself forward, at a partial bend. He balances on one leg, sliding his other leg backward at a perfect point. He extends his left arm backward as well, so that his body is in a perfect, graceful flow, his right arm extended forward. He looked .. well, graceful. A word that could never really be applied to the clumsy man that could trip around a crime-scene like a buffoon. Gibbs couldn't take his eyes off the graceful extension.

"She taught me a few different poses. This is called an Arabesque." The move is met with applause from all three, Gibbs' clap nothing more than a single, light clap of his hands before he leans back once more, lost in thought. Tony blushes deeply, and as he brings himself down into a normal stance, another coughing fit seizes him. The other three tense, ready to help. And when the fit doesn't end, Gibbs' is immediately up, on his feet.

"Ziver. Grab my blanket and put it on the table. Tim, grab the pillow and put it there also. Tony .. come on .." Gibbs grabs the blanket Tony had discarded and wraps an arm around the younger man's waist, guiding him to the table. Once Tony has curled up, Gibbs turns to look at McGee and Ziva, both of which suddenly come up with a few different places they could be and scramble from the room wrapped up in their blankets. Gibbs turns back to Tony, only now allowing that affectionate little smile to appear.

"Now, Tony .. about my dog tags ..."


End file.
